Fie, sir!
BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.

We quitted Paris two days after; and a journey of three days, through an
uninteresting country, brought us to the little town of Granville, on
the sea-coast, in the Channel. We remained at this delightful place
some days; and our letters being regularly forwarded to us, brought us
intelligence from England. My father expressed his astonishment at my
returning the money drawn for; and trusted, unaccountable as the
restitution appeared, that I was not offended, and would consider him my
banker, as far as his expenditure and style of living would permit him
to advance.

Eugenia, in her letters, reproached herself for having written to me;
and concluded that I had drawn so largely upon her merely to prove her
sincerity. She assured me, that her caution to me was not dictated by
selfishness, but from a consideration for the child.

Clara's letter informed me that every attempt, even to servility, had
been made in order to induce Emily to alter her determination, but
without success; and that a coolness had in consequence taken place, and
almost an entire interruption of the intimacy between the families. She
also added, "I am afraid that your friend is even worse than yourself;
for I understand that he is engaged to another woman, and has been so
for years. Now, as I must consider that the great tie of your intimacy
is his supposed partiality to me, and as I conceive you are under a
false impression with respect to his sincerity, I think it my duty to
make you acquainted with all I know. It is impossible that you can
esteem the man who has trifled with the feelings of your sister; and I
sincerely hope that the next letter from you will inform me of your
having separated."

How little did poor Clara think, when she wrote this letter, of the
consequences likely to arise from it; that in thus venting her
complaints, she was exploding a mine which was to produce results ten
times more fatal than anything which had yet befallen us!

I was at this period in a misanthropic state of mind, hating myself and
everyone about me. The company of Talbot had long been endured, not
enjoyed; and I would gladly have availed myself of any plausible excuse
for a separation. True, he was my friend, had proved himself so; but I
was in no humour to acknowledge favours. Discarded by her I loved, I
discarded every one else. Talbot was a log and a chain, and I thought I
could not get rid of him too s